Happy belated Valentine's day, alas, my gift to you. Behold the byproduct of listening to way too much Country music:

Elicia's unsteady breathing was the only thing that could be heard among the cool night wind and harmonious chirping of crickets in Central City. He's worried about her- deeply and desperately worried about her. It's not like Elicia to be worried; Elicia was one to dive right into things with out any sense of consequence, one who never shut up, one who took pictures of everything and everyone; one who was known for her confidence and flamboyant personality. This was a side of her he hadn't seen, and it worried him.

He slips his hand into hers, but judging by how much its shaking she doesn't find its warmth comforting. "I know I've said this before, but please try to understand that Roy... he's not what you might expect."

He pulls her closer to him, and grabs hold of her waist as he wears a devilish grin. "I don't care what your godfather is, I'll love you either way."

The rush of the firm kiss planted on her lips doesn't reassure her, she only slips away, and warns him one last time, "Just please, try not to overreact, okay?"

Elicia takes a deep breath, and opens the front door, letting the golden light from her house fill the patio. Her godfather is in plain view, enjoying a drink in their living room.

Elicia bites down on her lip, and her gazes rapidly shifts between her godfather and her boyfriend, whose jaw is dropped in a lose for words his jaw dropped in a lose for words.

"Kyle...?" Elicia asks haphazardly, almost compelled to check his vital signs.

"Elicia, the-"

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"In your kitchen-"

She nods.

"Your godfather?"

"Uh-huh."

"Fuhrer Mustang!"

The Fuhrer of Amestris is before him, sitting in an armchair with his hands folded under chin. His aide, whom he recognizes from the papers, is standing behind him. Fuhrer Roy Mustang gestures for him to sit, and says, "Come on in," he says with a forced type of warmth in his voice as he gestures to the seat in front of him. "Elicia leave."

"Don't worry," Elicia whispers in his ear, "He's a dork, really."

"Sit down," Mustang says to him.

Kyle doesn't hesitate, only does as he is bidden. "Yes Fuhrer, sir." He echoes as he plants his bum firmly in a nearby chair.

At first, Mustang disregards his presence and asks his guard a question as he fiddles with the white gloves on his hands. Kyle only stares at the infamous bright red embroidery. " His excellency firmly address his aide.

"Yes sir?" She responds immediately, but not in a way most subordinates would. It seems like there is some sort of endearment in her voice, like she had come accustomed to this term but used it in a completely different context- like how a wife would say, 'Yes dear?'

Kyle knew many newspapers and tabloids run articles question the relationship between Mustang and his aide, Riza "The Hawk's eye" Hawkeye. Spicy, highly exaggerated rumors of a secret marriage, an affair, reports that they were seen going in and out of each other's houses, even that their dogs had puppies together. Up until now, Kyle has never believed any of them.

"How old were you when you had your first boyfriend?" The Fuhrer asked her, still picking at the red transmutation circle- which rumor had it he didn't actually need to perform alchemy.

"You know the answer to that sir." She replies, sighing like it's her own personal way of calling him an idiot.

Judging by the frown on the Fuhrer's face, Mustang knows that glare. "Fifteen if I'm not mistaken." He repeats, pressing his fist against the side of his chin.

"That's correct, sir. You were seventeen at the time."

"And how old is Elicia now?"

"Fourteen."

Mustangs snickers in disappointment, and looks directly towards the boy across from him. "Young man," The Fuhrer says, making the boy snap up. "So you like Elicia, do you."

"Ah! Yes sir! She's really a great girl!" He blurts out, looking past the Fuhrer's shoulder and staring at the gun that the Hawk's eye has holstered.

Fuhrer Mustang nods at his neurotic outburst, and calmly responds, "My aide and I hold Elicia very dear to our hearts. She's her daddy's girl," Kyle knows that Elysia father died when she was very young, but he couldn't help but note Mustang used the present tense when referring to him, "and she's her mother's entire world."

The boy quickly nods, and replies, "I understand sir! Elicia's really means the world to me, and I would never-"

"She deserves respect," Mustang says, with a glare that can shoot holes right through him, "And if she doesn't get it..." His voice trails off, and he doesn't finish his sentence, but Kyle registers the message.

"Oh no! I'd never do anything to hurt her, your excellency! I really do care about her, but this is coming off as a bit of a shock to me. She never mentioned you at all. "

Mustang becomes slightly discomposed, and frowns. "Really? Hawkeye, did you hear that?"

"Er- sir, she's a teenage girl. I'm sure your the last thing on her mind." She tells him, not hesitating to tell him the flat-out truth.

Kyle quickly ponders the truth of Elicia's statement, that perhaps the country's fuhrer was the equivalent to a child in need of a nanny. His thoughts are cut off when Mustang begins to speak again,

"Run along." He says, but like an order. Elicia steps in on cue, Kyle guesses she was ease dropping the whole time- she was notable for doing so. "Make sure to have fun," he quickly glares at Kyle, "but not too much fun."

Elicia smiles and waves and her godfather and Riza. "Bye."

Kyle give some sort of bow, and says, "It was an honor, sir."

Mustang runs his hands through his air, and ruffles the hair slicked back against his head, letting the fringe fall in his face. Suddenly, he looks like any other person. "I'll be here when you two get back. I'll be up all up night, paperwork and what not."

The young couple begins to depart before Mustang says one final thing:

"Just don't forget, I'll have Hawkeye here... cleaning her gun."

For once during this visit, Kyle's face splits into wide grin, "Wouldn't dream of it!"